After Camilla left, Olivia tossed Ivy the phone and she dialed the number for the BloodMart.
“Catering manager, please,” Ivy requested. “Hi, Mr. Bobovitch, it’s Ivy Vega. I’m calling because we’re throwing a last-minute surprise going away party for my father tonight.” She ordered a bunch of finger foods to be delivered to her house that evening. “And I hope you can make it, too, Mr. Bobovitch,” she added. “My father has always said you’re the best caterer outside Transylvania. And pass the invitation along to anyone else you think might like to come.”
“Will do, Ivy,” Mr. Bobovitch answered. “Everyone was sad to hear that your father is leaving us. I know lots of folks will want to say good-bye.”
Ivy hung up and handed the phone back to her sister. “What’s next?”
Olivia glanced at her notebook. “Now that invites and catering are taken care of, the only thing left is decorating your house. We can meet there this afternoon. If we work together, it shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
“That won’t work,” Ivy realized. “Dad’s going to be home all day packing.”
Olivia wrinkled her nose. “How are we supposed to throw him a surprise party if we can’t surprise him?”
Ivy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “This calls for a covert operation.” A plan came together in her mind. “Later this afternoon, you and I will go to my house, and you’ll sneak around back. You’ll hide in my room while I convince my dad to take me to the mall. I’ll keep him away until seven P.M., when all the guests should be there.”
“Great,” Olivia approved. “That gives Brendan, Sophia, and me about two hours to get everything ready.” She stood up from the couch and saluted Ivy. Ivy saluted back, and they both cracked up.
They had a few hours to kill before going to Ivy’s house, so Olivia invited her sister down to the kitchen to have a bite for lunch. Her parents were out visiting friends who had just had a baby, so she and Ivy had the place to themselves.
Watching Ivy pick at a patty of raw ground beef while she had tuna salad, Olivia couldn’t help marveling at the differences between the two of them—and at how close they’d become.
“You know,” Ivy said, crumpling her napkin, “there is one person who knows the whole truth about why our dad’s moving.”
“Who?” Olivia asked. “Him,” Ivy replied. She had a determined look in her eye. “We have to confront our father, Olivia.”
“But what if he freaks out?” Olivia said. “He might do something really drastic.”
Ivy raised her eyebrows. “You mean like move to Europe?”
Good point, thought Olivia.
“What do we have to lose?” Ivy pressed.
Olivia searched her mind. “Nothing,” she had to admit finally. At the very least, she thought, he ought to know that I know he’s my dad before he goes.
“We’ll do it tomorrow,” Ivy decided.
A sickly feeling crept into Olivia’s stomach, but she tried to ignore it. “Okay,” she said, “but in the meantime, let’s focus on throwing him the best party ever.”
Later that afternoon, Olivia waited the agreedupon five minutes before following her sister up the long drive to the house atop Undertaker Hill. In the hours since she and Ivy had decided to confront their father, Olivia hadn’t been able to get rid of the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Maybe my father’s not the only one who’s scared of the truth, she thought.
She forced herself to put one Moon Boot in front of the other and started her climb up the frozen drive. Her duffel bag tugged at her shoulder. It was full of leftover decorations from the All Hallows’ Ball. She crept around the back of the house, slid open Ivy’s basement window, threw the bag in, and crawled inside. Hiding near the top of the basement stairs, she could hear Ivy and her father talking.
“But, Ivy, you are not being reasonable.You do not need me to take you to the mall,” Mr. Vega was saying. “I have to keep packing.”
“You have to take to me,” Ivy pleaded. “I need...a book for the plane. And I’m out of toothpaste. And my bag is too small. I don’t even have a ski suit!”
“But you do not ski,” Mr. Vega said.
“You want me to go to boarding school without a ski suit?” Ivy cried, sounding hurt. Olivia had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “This is our last chance for affordable prices, Dad. Once we get to Europe, it’ll be nothing but expensive designer labels.”
“All right.” Mr. Vega finally gave in. “Allow me to get my keys.”
As soon as she heard the front door shut, Olivia hurried upstairs to start decorating. She almost dropped her poms when she saw the living room. It was completely taken over by boxes. They were everywhere: on the coffee table, on the couch, on all the chairs. The floor was so crowded that there was barely any place to put down her duffel bag.
Olivia had no choice: she was going to have to stack all the boxes against one wall to make room for the party. Maybe they could put a banner or something on the front of them so they didn’t make the room look untidy.
She pushed up her sleeves and got to work. Before long, she’d built a tower of boxes that was as tall as she was against the wall. She pushed it gently with her hand to see if it was stable. One more small box on top, she decided, scanning the floor.
She spotted one that was just the right size and waded over. When she bent down, though, it was so heavy she could barely lift it. What’s in here? she wondered. She found the word LIBRARY written on one side in black magic marker.